


Bad Medicine

by Melibe



Series: Bad Medicine [1]
Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Abuse of Authority, Alternate Universe - Human, Condoms, Doctor Beelzebub, Doctor/Patient, Extremely Dubious Consent, Medical Kink, Mindfuck, Nonbinary Beelzebub (Good Omens), Other, Patient Gabriel, Sexual Abuse, Sexual Roleplay, Size Kink, They/Them Pronouns for Beelzebub (Good Omens), ambiguous roleplay, but not discussed explicitly in the text so it could also read as, non-graphic mention of war injuries, safe sex, this fic is really very sketchy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-14
Updated: 2020-06-14
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:21:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24721495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Melibe/pseuds/Melibe
Summary: Dr. Beelzebub Prince may be an asshole, but they’re a professional asshole. Their patients can always expect candor, if not kindness. However, when a routine checkup reveals that their newest patient is more well-endowed—and more innocent—than anyone they’ve treated before, Dr. Prince finds themselves crossing some lines in the name of sexual education.After all, it can't betaking advantageif he's just as aroused as they are.
Relationships: Beelzebub/Gabriel (Good Omens)
Series: Bad Medicine [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1927267
Comments: 30
Kudos: 68





	Bad Medicine

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Thestarlitrose](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thestarlitrose/gifts), [aretia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aretia/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Variations in Routine Procedures](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23758639) by Anonymous. 



> Thestarlitrose rec'd the incredible _Variations in Routine Procedures_ , suggested the need for an Ineffable Bureaucracy take, and, along with aretia, encouraged me relentlessly when I was fishing for an excuse to drop the project. Thanks to you two, and to the whole sweet and wild IB crew, this now exists.
> 
> As in the inspiration fic, I was thinking of this as roleplay, but negotiations are all off-screen, so if you want you can read them as humans.
> 
> Wonderfully beta'd by seekwill, who also provided the gift of a title, and allowed me to borrow Beelzebub's perfect last name from Interdepartmental Cooperation.

Dr. Beelzebub Prince was bored.

Not that it came as a surprise. After eight years as an army medic, they’d hardly expected to find general practice with civilian patients interesting. 

And of course, the army knew how to bore you, too. _Long periods of boredom punctuated by moments of sheer terror_ , wasn’t that the adage? Beelzebub had liked it, as much as they liked anything, until the day a grenade exploded a little too close to their jeep. A few months and a half dozen skin grafts later, the only lasting damage was cosmetic and psychological. Beelzebub had decided they didn’t want to roll the dice anymore.

So here they were, one of ten GPs in a big bland London office, bored out of their skull. At least the practice saw enough patients that Beelzebub’s bedside manner (or lack thereof) served as a genuine asset. Some people actually preferred a pull-no-punches hold-the-sympathy approach, and whenever another doctor encountered one of these patients, Beelzebub got a call. In exchange, whenever Beelzebub made a patient cry, they could send the poor soul to sweet-as-pie Dr. Aziraphale for tissues and tea.

“Room 7 is ready for you, Dr. Prince.” Eric interrupted their thoughts, offering a chart with the nervous air of a nurse who’d been threatened with evisceration if he got one more chart mixed up.

Beelzebub snatched it out of his hands and skimmed their next patient’s information as they strode down the hall. Gabriel Ark, new to the practice, routine checkup, no health complaints. At 186 centimeters and 91 kilos, he was a pretty big guy. They wondered if he had a big—well, they’d find out.

Beelzebub permitted themselves any and all inappropriate thoughts about their patients, because they were incredibly fucking strict when it came to words and actions. Their outward behavior was always one hundred percent professional.

Thoughts were private. No one had to know that Beelzebub mentally sized up their patients’ dicks and snickered about them on the phone in the middle of the night to their old friend Dagon, who was still in the army, stationed in some godforsaken time zone.

Beelzebub gave the door to Room 7 one rap of their knuckles, then swung it open. “I’m Dr. Prince,” they announced. “Pronouns are they/them, or you can awkwardly try to avoid using any pronouns at all.”

“Oh, hello!” The man inside looked surprised, but not bothered, by their sudden entrance. He’d been standing with his hands clasped behind his back, to all appearances intent on reading an insipid poster about prostate cancer. When he turned to Beelzebub, he focused on their eyes, not their scars, unlike most new patients. “I’m Gabriel, my pronouns are—”

“He/him, I know. It’s on your chart. And you just moved from the States.” They waved toward the exam table. “Take a seat.”

He hopped onto the table, his paper exam gown riding up to mid-thigh. And oh, those thighs were luscious, thick and hard with muscle. Beelzebub made a mental note to have _words_ with Eric about providing appropriately sized gowns to the patients. Gabriel’s was clearly too small. If he rolled his shoulders back, it’d probably rip right down his broad chest.

Not that Beelzebub was imagining any such thing, as they pressed their stethoscope against one very firm pectoral and told Gabriel to take deep breaths.

They weren’t one for small talk. They’d built a career out of treating the surly and taciturn. But Gabriel chatted away cheerfully, despite receiving only grunts in response. While Beelzebub listened to his heart and lungs and peered in his eyes, ears, and mouth, Gabriel shared that he was vegan, ran marathons, liked pigeons, and never sullied his body with alcohol or cigarettes. 

He was also an army brat, which thawed Beelzebub a little. He talked about his mother’s days in the service, recounted without pathos the story of her leg getting blown off. They wondered if her injury was why he seemed unfazed by their scars, or if he was just like that.

“What about you?” they asked, breaking their habit of asking patients only medically relevant questions. “West Point kid?”

He chuckled. “No, I went to Yale. Business degree.” He kept talking and Beelzebub tuned out, gathering only that he’d been hired away from some useless American company by some equally useless English company.

They’d gotten their initial overreaction to his body under control. They touched bodies all the time, and this was just another body, even if it was distractingly well-sculpted. Even if it came with blue eyes so dark they were almost violet.

Jesus, this guy must have been a model when he was younger.

“Lie back for a minute,” they said. “I’m going to palpate your abdomen and check your genitals, and then we’ll be done.”

Beelzebub knew doctors who babbled to make this part of the exam more comfortable for their patients, but that wasn’t Beelzebub’s style. They were quick, quiet and clinical. They pushed Gabriel’s gown to one side and ran their gloved hands over his stomach, checking for abnormalities. Everything felt perfect, of course. Then they moved lower—and stopped short as they got a good look at what was hanging between his helpfully spread legs.

It had to be the biggest dick Beelzebub had ever seen. And they’d watched their fair share of porn.

They kept their face carefully schooled, their touch light and practical. If they greedily stored every second of this memory to be reviewed in privacy at home, then who fucking cared? They were acting professional, and that was what mattered.

Gabriel was circumcised, his tender pink head nearly the length of Beelzebub’s thumb, his soft shaft so enormous that they really needed to look at it for a few extra seconds to make sure they weren’t seeing anything pathological. 

They’d have to tell Dagon about this guy on their next call. Mr. Congeniality, with the world’s biggest dick.

The idea presented itself, completely unbidden, of trying to take that monstrosity down their throat. Saliva pooled at the back of Beelzebub’s mouth and they swallowed reflexively, using their default question to buy time. “Any problems in this area?”

Gabriel cleared his throat. “I don’t use it much, to be honest.”

That jolted their attention from his dick to his face. “Piss out of your ass, then?”

His eyebrows flew up and his mouth twisted in disgust. “That’s not what I meant! Obviously, I urinate in the normal human way.”

What a weirdo. Beelzebub almost laughed out loud. With immense reluctance, they replaced his gown and motioned for him to sit up.

“Are you sexually active?” they asked, peeling off their gloves, careful to sound as uninterested as they always did.

“Oh, no! I’m not married.”

Was that a lame attempt at humor? Beelzebub almost never had to coax this information from a male patient. “Yeah, that’s not—no judgement, okay? I’m not gonna report you to the Pope or something for fornication.”

“Okay, but I am a virgin. I’ve been saving myself.” He sounded so proud, sitting there with that stupid paper gown barely covering half his thighs.

Beelzebub should leave it at that. Gabriel was a grown man, even if he was a bit strange, and he could take care of himself. If and when he decided to have sex, there was an internet full of information at his disposal.

But what if he’d misconstrued the question? Some people came up with the most ridiculous loopholes for themselves, creative sex acts that let them imagine they were still “virgins,” whatever that meant. It would be irresponsible for Beelzebub not to find out if that was the case here. 

So they stuck their hands in the pockets of their white coat and persevered. “Stop me if you already know this, but it’s possible to contract an STI even if you don’t engage in penetrative intercourse.”

“Oh?” Gabriel tilted his head curiously. “What do you mean?”

For fuck’s sake, Beelzebub would have to spell it out for him. They licked their lips. “Plenty of other activities involve contact with bodily fluids. Oral sex, manual stimulation...” His face was so open and interested they couldn’t help continuing the list, and for some reason their brain had stopped supplying them with medical terminology and was only offering up the vernacular. “Frottage, fingering, rimming, comeplay, facials...”

It wasn’t their fault that some bodily fluid had started to leak into their underwear. That was just a physical reaction. It was nothing to be ashamed of, and certainly nothing that their patient ever needed to know about. Not for the first time, Beelzebub was glad they’d been born with the more discreet genital configuration.

Poor Gabriel, on the other hand, displayed an obviously rising interest in the discussion. After one sidelong glance to the bulge in his gown, Beelzebub generously ignored it. They could think about the size of it later, at home, when they tried to find something that big to stuff inside themselves. Right now, they couldn’t let a bit of inconvenient arousal derail an important conversation about sexual safety. “Have you done any of that?”

“I don’t know what most of those activities are,” Gabriel answered, eyes wide. “But my penis appears to be getting erect as a result of hearing about them. Is that normal?”

Beelzebub clenched their fists in their pockets. Fuck, he was guileless. “Yeah, it’s normal.”

They considered reassuring him by saying _my cunt is getting wet, too_ , but that would be crossing a line. This appointment wasn’t about their body, it was about Gabriel’s.

And he’d just presented them with a valuable opportunity for health care. “In fact, in this case it’s helpful, because if you’ve never had a sexual partner, then no one has observed your erect penis, so I can check right now and make sure it’s—make sure everything’s healthy.”

Beelzebub shut their mouth so fast their teeth clicked. Damn, that had been a fucking creepy thing to say. Of course they weren’t being a creep. They were being responsible. If Gabriel freaked out, though, if he ran off to another doctor and repeated their words out of context, they could get in a lot of trouble for offering to check out a patient’s erection.

But he just nodded enthusiastically and spread his legs. “Please, Dr. Prince, I’d appreciate that.”

The heady rush Beelzebub felt was relief, of course. Relief that he had understood their professional intent, that he wasn’t misinterpreting their motives. They were so relieved, in fact, that they almost forgot to put gloves back on. They remembered just in time, snatching a new pair from the box and snapping the blue latex down to their wrists.

Then they moved forward and lifted his gown. There was no reason to take it slow or make a show of it. This was a medical exam. They didn’t have all day.

Beelzebub almost bit through their own lip at the sight of Gabriel’s stiff cock.

Penis, they tried to correct themselves, but it was no use. That was a cock, a fucking porn star cock. Five minutes ago it had looked big enough, lying meekly against his leg, but now it looked massive, jutting up between his thighs like a red obelisk. He’d gotten this hard just from hearing a doctor reel off a quick list of sexual activities? Maybe there was something wrong with him. Maybe he was the creep.

They looked up sharply, to see if he was gloating. No. His forehead was wrinkled, his lips slightly parted. He looked every bit as surprised as they felt.

When Beelzebub spoke, their voice was only a little huskier than usual. “It looks normal from a simple visual inspection. But—and I only mention this because without having had a partner, you may not be aware—your penis is somewhat larger than average.” _Somewhat larger_ , they scoffed in their head, imagining a later repetition of this conversation for Dagon’s benefit. Hell of an understatement.

“Is that a problem?” The worried furrow between his eyebrows deepened. Beelzebub was seized by the urge to rub it away. And maybe rub a few other things while they were at it. Their cunt throbbed, wet and empty and eager.

They took a deep breath. “Depending on your eventual partner or partners, it might make penetrative acts difficult, or impossible. You’ll need to be comfortable discussing it. And you’ll need to find out what size of condom fits best, so you can be prepared.”

“There’s more than one size?”

Oh, he was fucking adorable. Beelzebub should help him with this, shouldn’t they? It would be unethical to let him leave the office so ill-informed. They opened a drawer and extracted two packages to show him. “This is the regular size. This is the large size.”

“That’s good to know. I mean—if I ever get married! I’m sure I’ll have plenty of time to figure out what fits before then.”

Beelzebub scowled at the thought of this ridiculous man finding a spouse someday. Probably someone who was just as innocent as he was, who would have no idea what a ride they’d scored because they wouldn’t have anything to compare it to. Beelzebub, on the other hand, had fucked more cocks, dildos, and strap-ons than they could count (not to mention the occasional vegetable), and had never yet taken anything this large. They felt their pulse drumming hopefully in their cunt.

If only they could feel it. If they could just hold Gabriel’s cock in their hand for a few seconds, then they could go to the shop when they got off work and buy something just the right size to play with.

“Why don’t we try these on you right now?” they blurted out, waving the condoms. “Save you the trouble of buying something that doesn’t fit later.”

“Oh.” Gabriel looked dazed. “I guess that’s a good idea.”

“This way I can teach you how to put one on, too.” Beelzebub tore open the regular package. It was tragic that Gabriel didn’t already know this. Fucking puritanical American schools. Beelzebub wouldn’t be much of a doctor if they didn’t correct the deficiency. “I’ll need to touch your penis. Okay?”

He gave a small, jerky nod of assent.

Beelzebub wrapped one hand around the center of his shaft, barely holding back a satisfied sigh. God, it was thick. Their fingertips couldn’t even meet their thumb. To be fair, they had small hands, but seeing their own hand dwarfed by that giant cock . . . well. Their underwear was a lost cause.

They gave a little squeeze, for a good reason that they’d definitely think of in a minute. Gabriel let out a groan. Beelzebub glanced up to see his cheeks flushed nearly as red as his cock. They asked brusquely, “What was that?”

“Sorry,” he whispered. “It’s just—sensitive.”

Beelzebub clicked their tongue. They supposed it wasn’t too shocking that a repressed middle-aged virgin would be turned on by the simple touch of a doctor’s gloved hand. After all, he’d already popped a boner in the middle of a routine conversation about sexual health. He clearly had issues.

But they had a job to do, and it wasn’t their problem if he liked it. They positioned the rolled condom on Gabriel’s cock, holding the tip in their left hand and using the thumb and fingers of their right to start rolling it down.

It wouldn’t go.

They pushed harder, fascinated by the deepening blush of his cockhead, the firm resistance as they tried to force the latex over it. Gabriel’s hands gripped the edge of the table, big hands to suit that big cock. His abdominal muscles rippled with tension, his chest rising and falling with quick breaths.

Finally he spoke up. “Maybe we can try the other one? This isn’t very—ah—comfortable.”

“All right.” Beelzebub shrugged and pulled the condom back off the two centimeters they’d managed to get it on, noting Gabriel’s whimper as the tip of his cock was freed from its constriction. He really didn’t have much self-control, did he? They wrapped the condom in a tissue, stuffed it in their pocket, then opened the larger size.

Looking back at Gabriel’s cock, they saw a bead of precome glistening at the slit. Their mouth watered. They wanted to lean down and lick it off.

He’d love to be sucked, Beelzebub was sure of it. They could stretch their lips around that brutal girth, go down on him until they choked. He probably wouldn’t even move. Not unless they told him to.

They could tell him to. They could grab one of those meaty hands and bring it to the back of their head, tell him to pull their hair and use their mouth, and he’d do it. Fucking hell, he would do it. He didn’t know any better.

Their cunt dripped at the thought.

Sternly Beelzebub reminded themselves that they were at work, training a patient in vital self-care. They took Gabriel in hand again, wishing they could feel his hot skin without the barrier of the glove, and settled the new condom at his tip.

“It looks like this is your size,” they said as they started to roll it down. “I can give you a couple to take home. When you put on a condom, make sure to leave space at the tip, like this. And go slowly, keeping your nails well away to avoid tears.”

Beelzebub was going more slowly than strictly necessary, but this was a new experience for Gabriel. It was a kindness to go slow, to let him get used to it. (Never mind that Beelzebub didn’t usually bother with kindness, didn’t so much as warm their stethoscope before slapping it against a patient’s chest.)

When the base of the condom was seated at the base of Gabriel’s cock, Beelzebub took a moment to admire their work. He was fully sheathed, still hard as iron. A few more drops of liquid had collected inside the tip of the condom. 

“You can see it’s containing your pre-ejaculate, just as it will contain your ejaculate. Got a bit excited there, didn’t you?” They spoke with a hint of disapproval, to make sure he knew that Beelzebub wasn’t the one doing something inappropriate.

“I—well—” Gabriel looked down and ran one tentative finger over his latex-covered cock. It twitched.

Beelzebub curled their lip. Now he was touching himself in their office, the pervert. He’d be lucky if they didn’t file a sexual harassment report. They shifted their stance, wishing they could cross their legs.

“You’re sure it won’t leak?” he asked, all earnest curiosity.

“It shouldn’t, but...” Beelzebub hesitated. They couldn’t just end the appointment and send him out of the office with an erection the size of Mount Everest, could they? That would be inconsiderate to him and to everyone who had to look at him. (Being considerate had never before been Beelzebub’s strong suit.) Besides, learning to correctly remove a used condom was important.

“The proper functioning of a condom can be affected by ejaculate volume and external lubrication,” they said quickly, the words tumbling out. “If you’re worried, you could test it here, under medical supervision.”

They saw Gabriel blink as he processed their suggestion. “You think I should, uh, ejaculate here? Now?”

Beelzebub gritted their teeth. They had a fucking inferno between their thighs, blazing a few degrees hotter every time they glanced at Gabriel’s cock. Their body needed attention just as badly as his did. Trying to see other patients without first resolving their own condition would be tantamount to malpractice. “Yes, with external lubrication,” they repeated.

Gabriel glanced around the office as though he expected them to produce a bottle of lube. Beelzebub scoffed at him. “This isn’t a sex shop.”

“Sorry, I didn’t, I mean I just...”

He trailed off as Beelzebub lifted their coat, unbuttoning their slacks with the same casual efficiency they’d used to put on a fresh pair of gloves. Their heartbeat seemed to ricochet through their body, but their voice stayed calm. “It’s okay. You can use my natural lubrication.”

Those beautiful eyes nearly fell out of Gabriel’s head as he watched them step out of their slacks and underwear. “Do you mean, um—”

“Just lie back on the table again,” Beelzebub said, feeling wetness trickle down their thighs now that there was nothing to catch it.

They’d decided not to tell Dagon about this patient, after all. It would be too difficult to explain why this course of action had come so easily, why it had been not only obvious but necessary. The important thing was that their patient understood.

Gabriel had lain back just as they’d told him to, feet hanging off the edge of the table, cock spearing up toward the ceiling. He gazed at Beelzebub trustingly. “So this isn’t—sex?”

“With your doctor?” They rolled their eyes as they climbed up onto the table. “Of course not. I have to use my body for work. Like I used my ears to listen to your lungs, and my hands to feel your stomach.” _I’m going to use my cunt to lube up your cock. No big deal._

Beelzebub straddled Gabriel’s thighs, pulling up their lab coat just long enough to get their hips in position and then dropping it again. The coarse white fabric fell against Gabriel’s stomach, hiding everything from sight. Glancing at his face, they thought they saw a flash of disappointment. They sniffed. There was no point in giving him a view. This wasn’t recreational.

Not that there would be any mystery if someone walked in and saw them like this. Beelzebub suppressed an urge to glance at the door, not wanting to worry their patient. But if another doctor happened to glance in…Hell, if Aziraphale saw this, he’d faint dead away.

Or he’d want a turn. The innocent ones always had the filthiest secrets, didn’t they?

Like Gabriel. He’d practically begged for this, with his coy, _There’s more than one size?_ What fucking forty-year-old didn’t know that? Gabriel definitely wanted this. And Beelzebub was going to give it to him.

They looked down at his eyes, glassy with lust, his open mouth and quick-heaving chest. The stupid paper gown was still half-covering him, so they ripped it out of the way. Gabriel barely noticed. His eyes tracked their blue-gloved hands, one pressing down on his ribs to steady themselves as the other reached under their coat to guide his cock into position. They rubbed the huge blunt head along their labia, coating it in their own slick. They’d promised lubrication, after all. Gabriel was making soft little noises of appreciation and wonder, and Beelzebub gave him an irritated look. They were trying to work here.

They adjusted the angle and began to slide their hips down. For a few seconds it felt like trying to fit the too-small condom onto his cock, pushing and pushing, wondering if it would even work. Except instead of a piece of latex stretching, it was their own hypersensitive cunt. The feeling was impossible, agonizing, glorious. They held their breath and closed their eyes and bore down and finally the head of his cock was inside them.

Beelzebub paused to adjust to it, shallow and thick, stretching them obscenely wide. Fuck, they wished they could see it, too. They pushed their hips down another centimeter, another, then hissed.

Gabriel’s hands reached up and hovered in the air between them, two large confused birds. “Are you okay?”

“Course. I’m the—the doctor.” They took Gabriel’s hands and placed them on their hips, the warmth of his palms slowly seeping through to their skin. “How does it feel for you? Condom still okay?”

“Yes, I—I think so.”

“Good.” Beelzebub kept going, hungry for that burning stretch, until they had to stop again. They were maybe halfway on him, but it was too much, they were coming apart. They lifted their hips up, then pushed back down, making it a little further this time, swallowing their moan.

Gabriel’s hands rested at their sides, feather-light, uncertain. If this were a hookup, if they’d brought him home from the pub, they’d tell him to pull their body down. _Split me open_ , they’d demand. _Fucking impale me_.

But this was a medical appointment. They gave him an encouraging nod that hopefully didn’t give away how ruined they already felt, and rocked their hips to take him deeper. Their cunt opened for him, centimeter by centimeter, the hot huge press of him their only reality.

At last they realized there was no more to take, they’d sunk him to the root. It felt incredible. It felt like they would shatter if they tried to move. They forced themselves to focus on Gabriel’s face. His forehead shone with sweat, and his mouth was trying unsuccessfully to form words.

Fuck, Beelzebub should say something. They scrambled through the tattered thoughts in their head, which consisted mostly of profanity and prayers of gratitude. “That should address the question of external lubrication,” they said, voice only a little shaky. “Does the condom still feel like it’s fully seated?”

He gave a jerky nod.

“Great. All that’s left then is for you to ejaculate.” Beelzebub sat there with Gabriel’s cock buried inside them and lifted an expectant eyebrow. As if they’d asked him to take a deep breath so they could hear his lungs, or to stick out his tongue so they could see his throat.

He swallowed several times. “You want me to ejaculate—now?”

“That’s right.” Beelzebub was being mean, and they knew it, and they couldn’t help it. Gabriel’s confusion was too delicious.

His eyes traveled over their body, still hidden almost entirely under the lab coat. “Can you—I mean—I think I need you to move?”

Beelzebub’s eyebrows arched higher. Their patient had just asked them to ride him. How inappropriate. How filthy. They smiled. “I suppose, if you insist.”

They leaned forward to brace both hands on his chest, and that slight movement sent a shudder through their whole body. Their cunt screamed at them anew about the offensively large intrusion. _Shut up, you love it_ , they screamed back.

Then they lifted their hips just a fraction, and slid them back down. It was overwhelming. And it seemed to be the same for Gabriel. His eyes fell shut and a helpless moan fell from his lips.

Beelzebub wanted to ride him hard and fast, but they couldn’t manage it. So they kept rocking back and forth, up and down, small movements that braided pleasure with pain. In a matter of seconds, they felt their climax building. They tilted their hips, sucked in a sharp breath and fucked themselves down, shaking and shivering with a silent orgasm.

Unobtrusive as they’d been, it still sent Gabriel over the edge. His hands tightened convulsively on their hips and he cried out, wild and desperate. They felt every hot pulse of his cock inside them.

“All right,” Beelzebub said, trying not to whimper as they slowly slid off. The retreat was nearly as intense as the approach. “Let’s check the seal.”

They sat back and took another long, hungry look at Gabriel’s cock, still red and huge, now glistening with their _natural lubrication_. They ran their fingers down the softening length and traced the base of the condom, the curls of wet hair. 

“Looks perfect.” They swung their legs off the table and slid down to the floor. Oh holy fuck, that hurt.

“Okay, great, that’s really good to know, thank you,” Gabriel babbled. He sat back up at the edge of the table.

“Watch how I take the condom off.” Beelzebub’s legs were quivering. They weren’t sure how long they could stay upright. Quickly they peeled off the condom, grabbed a couple of tissues and cleaned him up. Then they paused, struck by paranoia. They couldn’t throw a used condom in the exam room’s bin. What if someone saw it?

They grabbed a sterile sample container and stuffed the condom and tissues inside, then screwed the lid back on and handed it to Gabriel. “Here, throw this away at home.”

He took it automatically, his expression puzzled. “Not in here?”

“It’s, uh, an infection hazard.” Beelzebub fumbled back into their underwear and slacks. “You can get dressed now.”

They collapsed into a chair. They were supposed to leave, move to another exam room, get on with the next patient. But they were pretty sure that they couldn’t walk yet, so they just sprawled there, watching Gabriel. 

First he tucked the container carefully into his man-purse. Then he turned to a neatly folded stack of clothing. He pulled on lavender boxers, a crisp white shirt, elegant slacks. A soft, expensive sweater the same color as the boxers. Beelzebub wondered if they were the only person besides Gabriel who knew those two items of clothing matched.

They were still euphoric from their orgasm, from the incredible ache between their thighs. They’d be feeling that for days. Maybe weeks.

“See you at your next checkup,” they told Gabriel. “If anything comes up between now and then, if you ever need a hand—” _or a mouth or a cunt_ “—feel free to give me a call. Big healthy guy like you, you might feel immortal, but you can’t be too careful.”

“No, I guess I can’t.” He still looked stunned. “I’ll—I’ll be in touch, then.”

“Yeah. In touch.” Beelzebub watched him step out the door, his gait shaky, carrying the evidence of what they’d done in his bag. They leaned back, legs splayed, cunt throbbing, trying not to grin like a fool. 

They weren’t bored anymore.

**Author's Note:**

> I've started another, quite different, scene where Gabriel gets to be the doctor, so this will eventually be a two-part series.
> 
> I'm honestly so grateful every time someone reads one of my ridiculous flights of fancy. Thank you!


End file.
